


Let It Be

by MissScorp



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Malcolm Bright has another friend!, No pairings - Freeform, Restlessness, Revisits Malcolm’s days doing ballet, Sunshine dances, Sunshine is emotional support birb, cabin fever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:07:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/pseuds/MissScorp
Summary: Malcolm searches for something to burn off his abundance of energy during the mandatory shelter-in order. A friend arrives with the perfect solution.For Bad Things Happen Bingo: Cabin Fever.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright & Sunshine the Bird
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8
Collections: Bad Things Happen





	Let It Be

The first two weeks in quarantine went by almost in a blur for Malcolm.

Ainsley murdering Endicott in their mother's living room, her dissociative state afterwards, Gil in a coma following his near fatal stabbing, working to prove his own innocence, Eve continuing to haunt him, building a new cage for Sunshine, and his father calling him every chance he got to tell him how proud he was of "his girl" kept him plenty busy.

The next couple went by, not as quickly as the first two, but swift enough that he wasn't wanting to strip the wood panelling from his walls.

Zoom chats with Ainsley from the psychiatric hospital they checked her into, conference calls with Dani and JT about the case, Words with Friends with Edrisa, working on his relationship with Sorcha, and Skyping with Gil as he recovered at his mother's broke the tedium of having to stay home.

Not that staying home was all that big a hardship for him.

Given his idea of going out largely consisted of either working cases or walking the city at night, by himself.

By the beginning of June, though, Malcolm was ready to take a sledgehammer to the walls. The only thing that kept him from doing it was fear of his mother and what she'd do after she learned about his doing construction work on her building.

To save himself from what would be a never ending lecture, he took Sorcha's suggestion and enrolled in some free classes being offered online. Nothing related to psychology, criminology or the justice system.

Ancient American Literature piqued his interest.

Especially since it gave him a chance to re-read _The Odyssey_.

Malcolm rotated his days after that between yoga, swimming, the plethora of puzzles Ainsley bought him every birthday, and prowling the crime boards for potential cases while Sunshine played with her toys on his desk.

He continued to stay at home after the state entered phase 1 of its reopening.

Not that he had much choice given he hadn't been cleared, yet, of the murder of Eddie Smith.

Plus, Gil wasn't back at work and he couldn't wheedle a case outta JT or Dani as easily as he could him. He tried a few days ago and got shot down, fast.

" _Sorry, bro_ ," JT told him after he begged him for something, anything to do. " _Take up cooking if you're bored_."

"Right." Malcolm heaved a sigh. "Tried that. Almost set the kitchen on fire."

To JT's credit, he didn't even blink at that admission.

" _Garden then_."

That sounded... reasonably fascinating so Malcolm gave it a go.

One day, and five mangled bushes later, he decided gardening wasn't for him.

Something Sorcha agreed with as she took any and all gardening tools and hid them.

Desperate for an outlet for the surplus of energy inside him, Malcolm finally dug into the bottom of the trunk at the foot of his bed for something he only took out when he had nothing else to occupy himself with: his leather slippers.

Ballet had been an instrumental part of his life for a number of years. His mother only agreed to let him take lessons after his father impressed upon her how excellent it'd look on his school admission forms.

He loved ballet despite the amount of teasing he got from his friends. He had been good at it. Madame Tulane even called him her, " _petit papillon_ " and said he'd fly his way into the hearts of audiences if he continued to dance.

Then his father was revealed as The Surgeon and his dreams of being a butterfly came crashing down around him.

He stopped taking ballet lessons after his father was sent to Claremont.

Not that he had much choice after Madame Tulane asked his mother to never bring him back to her studio.

" _We do not wish to have our studio associated with such scandal_."

There was no point in searching for another studio. The condemnation in her brown eyes, and the scorn in her voice told him this would be the opinion of other instructors.

Who could blame them for not desiring the son of a monster as one of their students?

Malcolm didn't dance again until he found himself temporarily staying at Wayne Manor. He was heading for the library when he heard music coming from a room at the opposite end of the hall. Curious, he had crept down there to see who was listening to such a haunting melody.

What he found left him... _stunned_.

It wasn't that anyone in the Wayne household did ballet that surprised him.

It was that Raya continued to dance despite the connection between ballet and her father.

" _I dance for me_ ," she told him when he asked her why she continued to dance. " _And for Bruce_."

" _What about those who knew your father murdered your mother? Didn't their scorn hurt? Their rejection?"_

_"It did in the beginning."_

_"Why keep dancing then?"_

Her lips curved, warm with affection. " _Because it gives me pleasure_."

Raya convinced him to join her in her daily practice by saying it'd help him with learning martial arts.

It had been a sneaky, manipulative move, but an effective one. Daily practice led to him joining her weekly ballet class. He told himself he agreed only because he enjoyed the time with her.

The truth, though, was he loved ballet.

When he danced he forgot he was the son of the Surgeon.

His anxiety and fears melted away.

For those few, brief moments he was... _free_.

Malcolm traced his fingers lovingly over the slippers. They really should be replaced because the leather was worn in places, but he couldn't bear the thought of parting with them.

He enjoyed the feel of them on his feet.

Found comfort and solace in every scuff.

He carried the slippers over and set them on a chair he moved to the middle of the room to use as a modified barre. He'd put them slippers on after he warmed up.

Sunshine, curious as to what he was doing, fluttered over to investigate.

"Chirp?" As she tasted the leather. "Tweet?"

"I'm going to dance," he told her as he moved to put some music on. "I'm better at it than I am at yoga."

_And gardening, cooking, painting, building birdcages..._

Sunshine chirped a reply as she pranced back and forth across the seat of the chair, eliciting a smile from Malcolm.

"You want to dance, too, huh?"

More tweets and chirps came from his little budgie. Malcolm laughed quietly as he turned on the stereo, selected a song on his iPod, and hit play.

He began his warm-up by placing his feet parallel to each other and alternating between raising his heels slowly and gently.

"I'd have thought you'd start with the grande plié, myself."

A smile spread across Malcolm's face as that voice, like crushed velvet, sounded above him.

"I have a front door, you realize," he teased as he slowly lifted his gaze to her amused one. "You could try using it."

"Where would the fun be in that?"

"Right." Malcolm chuckled softly as Raya slowly descended the stairs. "Forgot who I'm talking to here."

"You're out of practice." The corners of her mouth turned up and brought out the hint of dimples. "You used to sense my presence a lot faster."

"Ah." Malcolm ducked his head to hide his embarrassment. "Kinda had a lot on my mind as of late."

"With you and your sister being charged with murder, Gil's stabbing, and this pandemic, I can imagine you've had your hands full."

He lifted his gaze back to hers. "Thank you for helping get Ainsley into that psychiatric hospital."

"Malcolm," she softly chided as she reached him. "Even Bruce has told you that whenever you need our help to call."

"I know." He blew out a soft breath. "I just didn't want to drag you into this. You deal with enough on your own."

Only silently did he acknowledge how the last month had seen Gotham terrorized by Talons, Man-Bat, Poison Ivy, The Scarecrow, Bane, an evil Batman and his Robins…

_And the Clown Prince of Crime._

Raya would call it a typical month if he pressed her about it, though.

As if urban warfare happened everywhere on a daily basis.

"Men like Nicholas Endicott are vile and disgusting." Disdain coated every word she spoke. "Exposing him and those who supported him is my pleasure."

"Endicott isn't like the criminals you deal with."

"You mean criminal masterminds who thrive on chaos and fear?"

Malcolm made a face. "Okay, so he is a _bit_ like the criminals you deal with."

"He's like my father, Malcolm." Anger and hate burned in those catlike eyes. "They thrived on power and control. And they didn't care who they hurt to get it."

It pained Malcolm to see; hear those dark emotions, particularly since her visit had stirred up a lot of memories inside him.

Emotions churned inside him, was fueled by a longing for the simplicity of that time.

They had been two kids working together to help innocent people survive the powerful earthquake that ravaged the city.

Sixteen, inexperienced in matters of the heart, and navigating a Gotham the rest of the world called _No Man's Land_.

He loved that sixteen year old girl.

Part of him loved the woman she had become.

Not in the way he loved Sorcha, of course. His feelings for Raya were quieter, less confusing, similar to how he felt about Dani and Edrissa but with a deeper understanding of who Raya was and the way her mind worked. Which was like his but with the dial turned low.

_She isn't an acquired taste like me._

Given the turn in conversation, Malcolm moved to turn off the stereo, but Raya's hand on his arm stopped him. "I'm just turning off the stereo."

"I've got a better idea."

"Oh?" Curious, Malcolm looked at her. "What?"

Her hand slid down to his. "How about we see if you remember any of the things I taught you?"

Malcolm hummed a quiet laugh. "Is that a challenge to dance with you?"

"You falling for it?"

"Of course." He waved to the stereo. "Prima chooses the music."

Raya moved to the stereo as Malcolm returned the chair to its place at the island. He recognized the song that started to play a few seconds later. He should have known she'd pick something with a message in it. Raya was like the man who trained her, imparting knowledge and wisdom through subtle clues and hidden messages.

_Leading me to the answer instead of simply giving it._

Let it be.

It was good advice.

As Malcolm remembered the steps Raya taught him in her private studio all those years ago, he found himself taking her suggestion.

He let it be.

And for those three and a half minutes?

He was _free_.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all, and welcome!
> 
> On 9/9/2015, I started a bit of a birthday tradition where I write something that is completely for me. I'm continuing that tradition here with this piece. There is a bigger crossover story coming that will explore and explain things but for now this is just a bit of friendship fluff.
> 
> And yes, I found another Beatles song to use ;)
> 
> Please, if you like this story, kudo/bookmark it it!


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